It was 6 p.m., and I was about to leave the coin laundry where I was employed. My boss called me over and asked if I would mind dropping off someone's laundry on my way home. "It's for my cousin," she apologized, "who's eight months pregnant and can't get out much anymore." I cheerfully agreed and, driving to the address, knocked at the door. A little girl, the sister-to-be, answered.

"Hi, there," I said with a big smile. "Is your mommy home?" Holding up the white bundle of clothes, I explained, "I have a delivery for her."